


The Pack & I

by LadyCookieCupcake



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Animals, Creeper Peter, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Gen, Humour (or an attempt of it anyway), Peter is a Little Shit, Selfie Queen Lydia!, Stiles being a cutie - as always, Tags Characters and Relationships will be updated as I go, Werewolf Anchors, male reader - Freeform, prompt-based
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-22 23:17:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14319243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCookieCupcake/pseuds/LadyCookieCupcake
Summary: Various one-shots based on imagines and prompts I find (and am given). Warnings will be placed in the notes of the stories (and if serious enough, in the tags).1.) "Selfie Queen" - Lydia Martin/Reader,Selfies2.) "The Man with the Flowers" - Derek Hale,Visiting the Hale graves.3.) "You've Been Replaced!" - Stiles Stilinski,Dogs are Cuter.





	1. Selfie Queen | Lydia Martin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You were determined to ignore your phone._  
>  Lydia, apparently, was determined to get you into trouble.
> 
>  
> 
> You just wanted to get through class without a detention waiting for you at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Sentence:
> 
> 'No more!'  
> 'Okay, fine, I won’t send you any more selfies.'
> 
> [Prompt List](https://prompt-bank.tumblr.com/post/156146388188/otp-drabble-challenge)

Your pocket vibrates as the phone  _tinged_ for the umpteenth time that past hour. You winced and looked up, watching for any sign that Mr. Posey had heard.

 

He hadn’t, thankfully, because the last thing you wanted was a detention...again. You were still suffering from the last lot.

 

Huffing quietly, you carried on with what you were doing, jotting down all the important notes you knew you needed. You were determined to ignore your phone.

 

Lydia, apparently, was determined to get you in trouble.

 

As the phone tinged again and those sitting around you looked up to glare, you smiled apologetically. You  _really_ didn’t need their glares, though.

 

Sending a quick glance to check the teacher was still facing away, you quickly slipped your phone out, punched in the code (and then bit your lip in frustration when you punched in the wrong number), sent another panicked look Mr. Posey’s way and then, ignoring all of the previous photos that was causing all of this, quickly typed a message you knew would get the point across as quickly and shortly as possible.

 

‘  _Fuck off!’_ Even before you sent the text, you were internally wincing, already feeling guilty. You knew Lydia hated swearing and you hated doing it (at least to her, in front of her and whatever else you could do that involved her), but she was not only getting on your nerves, which meant you were losing patience, but she was going to get you into trouble - and not just with the teacher.

 

You needed to prove to your parents that you  _were_ trying with school, that despite the failing grades, you were still doing your best because you didn’t want them to be disappointed in you, nor did you want them to take you away from the only people who truly knew why your grades were failing.

 

Your friends and girlfriend were your everything, your  _pack_ and the idea that they would be taken from you… you bit your lip at the thought, frowning.

 

That couldn’t happen! You didn’t want that to happen.

 

‘  _Excuse me?!’_ Lydia replied back, causing the phone to vibrate, and another look was sent the teacher’s way. Still not looking but you could tell those around you were beginning to lose patience.

 

‘  _Lydia, I’m still in class. I can’t talk.’_

 

There was silence after that, and you could finally put your phone down without the fear of it vibrating and alerting the teacher. Dropping it into your pocket, you went back to writing the notes down, and soon, so did those around you.

 

It was thirty minutes ‘till the end of class when you got another one, and you had to resist the urge to scream.

 

Waiting once more for the teacher to turn his back, you slipped the phone out of your pocket, punched in the correct number (somehow) and went straight to your messages.

 

There it was, another photo, another goddamn  _selfie_. You hated the goddamn things!

 

 _But_ there was something different about this one. Of course, it still had Lydia’s beautiful face in it and of course, there was still a little bit of a pout to her lips but unlike the other ones, you felt it was more of an apologetic pout (if there existed such a thing). That, and she was also holding up a small note that read ‘ _I’m sorry, baby! Please forgive me!_ ’

 

It was a stupid way to apologise, by doing the same thing that she was apologising  _for_ , but she meant well and she didn’t  _have_ to apologise. You remembered a time where she wouldn’t have.

 

It made you stupidly happy to see she was, and you found yourself fighting a smile.

 

‘  _Alright, fine! Just...no more!’_ The response came within seconds.

 

‘  _Okay, I won’t send any more selfies_ ** _._  ** _Love you, sweetie._ ’

 

You didn’t bother hiding this smile and quickly switched off the phone, shoving it back into your pocket just in time to avoid the sight of Mr. Posey.

 

As attention-grabbing as she could be sometimes, you loved Lydia and wouldn’t ever change anything about her.

 

Well, maybe the selfies - those can  _definitely_ go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking through the list and saw this one, and instantly thought of Lydia. Is that bad? XD Well, Lydia or Stiles - they'd probably have a competition to see who can beat the other with the best selfie... I wonder who would win? xD
> 
> Also, could you tell I couldn't think of a better surname for the teacher? When in doubt, steal one of the actors'. xD
> 
> *
> 
> Hope you liked it!  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated and welcomed! :D  
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	2. The Man with the Flowers | Derek Hale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'He was there again, knelt quietly by a gravestone with two simple words on it.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be seen as platonic or romantic (I wrote to be read that way, anyway), whichever you wish. :)
> 
> It's just a small moment between Derek and the reader really, and an excuse to write a sad Derek.
> 
> Loosely based off of a Sterek prompt I can't seem to find anywhere. Sorry!

He was there again, knelt quietly by a gravestone with two simple words on it (a name you assume but you can't see who from where you stand), and in his hand are the same bouquet of flowers he always comes with.

 

You watch him, like you usually do. At the beginning, you would always catch yourself, realising the creepiness of it, knowing you wouldn't want to be watched if it was the other way 'round.

 

But that was before...before you met him, before you realised the truth, before the idea that he was there comforted you and grounded you, reminded you to stay in the present, to step away and walk into your life once more.

 

It took a few times for you to realise it did the same to Derek.

 

You didn't mind being there for him, being that anchor for him. You knew he needed it and it wasn't as if you _hated_ it; you didn't mind being the one he relied on to bring him back. Of course, sometimes it was pressuring. Sometimes, watching him kneel down and lay the flowers down as if it were routine, knowing he wouldn't cry (because tears won't bring them back) made  _ you _ want to cry - for him, for those he lost...for those you lost.

 

But you preferred it to what the alternative would be, were you not there for him...

 

Derek stands but doesn't move otherwise. His hands are free now, empty of the only living thing there, and you have to resist the urge to grab them, replace the weight of the flowers with your own hand.

 

He doesn't need that, not yet.

 

You're never sure how long these visits last, never really count. You just watch and focus on Derek and forget to think - you  _ never _ want to think, if you can help it but these moments give you an excuse.

 

Derek turns now, his face a blank mask, and he walks over, grabs your hand and drags you into him. You don't hesitate to wrap your arms around him, clutching him and holding him tightly, offering the support he needs but won't ask for. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling it, scenting it, taking in your own scent - and breathes.

 

It tickles but you ignore it in favour of placing your head against his chest, your ear over where his heart is - and you listen as with every moment passing, his speeding heart slows until it's a healthy speed.

 

He's calmed down - _somewhat_ \- and you begin to breathe again (you're unsure when it stopped; you never know when it stops until you're left gasping). There's moments in  _ these _ moments where you fear the worse.

 

Today isn't one of those worse days.

 

You move back, arms still grasped around his waist, and his tiny whine disrupts the silence but neither of you say anything. You look up, into his eyes, clenching your jaw when you see the pain, the sadness, the darkness that will never leave, no matter how many times you try and shine a light on him - and you smile.

 

You hope it isn't as broken as you feel.

 

"Shall we go?" You ask, quietly, almost fearing the consequence of disturbing the air. Silence isn't preferable but here, talking - the thought always bring a hollow pit of dread to your stomach.

 

Derek nods, places a gentle kiss on your forehead that lingers two seconds longer and you shove the feeling of goodbye away.

 

This isn't final; it won't be.

 

He moves around, unwrapping his arms from around you and you quickly grasp his hand. You give it a little squeeze, he squeezes back.

 

And then you leave, forced to face the life you both lead outside of this graveyard, forced to put the darkness behind, leave it here in this damn land of the dead.

 

Until next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate titles. Not happy with it but it was the only one (of the admittedly-few) I thought of that I preferred. Sorry if it's boring.
> 
> *
> 
> Hope you liked it!  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated and welcomed! :D  
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	3. You've Been Replaced! | Stiles Stilinski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’ve been replaced! Deal with it!” You called from the living room, smirking as you heard the huff Stiles gave.  
>  It wasn't your fault the dog was cuter than Stiles (which was saying something because hello, Stiles.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt Sentence:
> 
> “You’ve been replaced.”  
> “Alright, we’ll see how you feel when you need me to kill a spider in the shower.”
> 
> [Prompt List](https://prompt-bank.tumblr.com/post/156146388188/otp-drabble-challenge)

 

“You’ve been replaced! Deal with it!” You called from the living room, smirking as you heard the huff Stiles gave.

 

Looking down, you nuzzled your nose against Betty’s nose, the Yorkshire Terrier’s little tail wagging happily as she tried to reach up and lick your face. You chuckled and stroked a hand through her soft fur, and she didn’t hesitate in jumping up onto the sofa and into your lap, circling into a comfortable position.

 

It wasn't your fault the dog was cuter than Stiles (which was saying something because hello, _Stiles_.)

 

Stiles appeared just as Betty’s eyes closed and you looked, smiling widely at the stance he was in. hands on his hips, one eyebrow raised, lips pursed; he looked like a proper mother.

 

He looked down at the dog for a minute before looking back up at you, eyebrow still raised, though his lips had begun to form a little smirk.

 

“Been replaced, have I?” He asked, though his tone showed he wasn’t asking for an answer. You nodded anyway, smile still wide and cheeky.

 

“Alright then, we’ll see how you feel when you need me to kill a spider in the shower,” Stiles said, moving his hands from his hips to cross over his chest. He smirked when your eyes widened and you froze, your hand pausing on Betty’s back.

 

She barely gave you a glance, simply nudged your hands and you carried on without thinking. You looked up at Stiles, smirk gone and replaced with a look that said everything you were feeling.

 

_ Damn it _ , you thought and glared half-heartedly at Stiles’ ever-growing smirk.

 

“I dislike you.” You muttered childishly and Stiles chuckled, leaning down to peck you on top of your head. You childishly stuck your tongue out at him.

 

“No, you don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated and welcomed! :D  
> Here's my [Tumblr](https://ladycookiecupcake.tumblr.com)


	4. The Hurt Will Keep You Safe | Stiles Stilinski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There was nothing worse than looking at the person who trusts you - and seeing the hurt, betrayed look they look at you with._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> “It's nothing against you...I just have to leave."
> 
>  
> 
> [Prompt List](https://prompt-bank.tumblr.com/post/156146388188/otp-drabble-challenge)

There was nothing worse than looking at the person who trusts you - and seeing only hurt and betrayal there.

You hated it. You couldn’t stand the look on Stiles’ face, but you knew you needed to do this.

If you didn’t…

The consequences weren’t going to be pleasant, you knew. You’d already seen it.

Of course, Stiles wasn’t going to understand, not really. He hadn’t seen it, he hadn’t witnessed the whole thing and felt utterly helpless. He still thought there was something that could be done.

 _There was_ , you thought solemnly,  _it just wasn’t what he wanted._

You gripped the bag strap, currently digging into your shoulder, and bit your lip. Of course, you wished there was something else that could be done. Of course, you didn’t  _want_ to do this.

But there wasn’t much choice.

It was either this or… Stiles will die, and maybe it was selfish but you knew that’ll hurt more than just simply leaving him.

You clench your jaw and look ahead, purposefully avoiding the look Stiles was giving you. He’ll get over it, eventually. He’ll move on and live a normal life, he’ll marry someone and have children and maybe he’ll hate you, maybe he’ll grow to detest you for leaving him when he needed you most, and though it hurt at just the thought of it, it didn’t matter as long as Stiles was still alive and safe.

That’s all that ever mattered.

You go to move forward, open the door and leave but there’s something inside of you that is stopping you. You want to say something,  _anything_ , that’ll calm him but you know it won’t. You know it’ll only make things worse, and maybe it’s more to calm you, maybe that’s why you say something  _anyway_.

“If it’s any consolation, it’s nothing against you...I just…I just have to leave.” You said and then winced as soon as you finished.

You didn’t need to turn to see the shut-off look. The scoff Stiles gave was enough.

“So, what? This is a case of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’?” Stiles snapped, and you flinched. You didn’t say anything.

The silence was obviously the final straw. Stiles scoffed out a humourless laugh and the sound of something dropping could be heard, causing a sharp  _bang_ to ring throughout the room.

You clenched your jaw, hoping he hadn’t heard the gulp you gave.

“Fine.” Stiles didn’t even exclaim. He didn’t shout or scream or throw anything else. A quick glance over the shoulder showed Stiles just standing there, looking out of the window, arms crossed. For a second, you were met with the image of Derek but then you shook your head.

They’re nothing alike and too much alike. Derek was easier to understand.

Stiles wasn’t.

And wasn’t that a testimony to how much you  _didn’t_ know of your boyfri-  _ex_?

 _Just go. He clearly doesn’t want you here anymore_.

Your heart thudded but you ignored it.

You left. You didn’t waste time. You said you would leave, so you did - and if you still found yourself hoping that one day, he’d be able to understand, maybe even forgive you,  _well_ , a person can dream.


	5. Hate Relationship | Peter Hale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I hate you,” You mutter even as his mouth trails soft kisses down your neck..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNINGS:** :  
> Dub-con as there isn't explicit consent given in this, and this 'relationship' - if it can be called that - is very unhealthy.   
> (There's a lot of hate not explicitly said but - I think - can be obvious, as well as a twisted sort of love.) The description of the smut is also not explicitly-detailed descriptions but it is there (hopefully this all makes sense).
> 
> I do not condone this outside of fanfiction! This is simply fiction, do NOT act anything like this outside of it.  
> Remember, consent is sexy. :)

"I hate you,” You mutter even as his mouth trails soft kisses down your neck, even as you bury your hands in his hair and  _ tug _ .

 

You can feel his smirk against your skin, feather-light and yet it never fails to bring tingles to you. You shiver under his touch. He grips tighter.

 

You’re sure there are going to be bruises everywhere, there always is. He says it’s to ensure everyone ‘knows who you belong to’, you’re sure it’s just so he likes the reminder that he can break you and fix you whenever he feels like it.

 

“I hate you so much, Peter.” Your voice quivers slightly nearer the end when you feel his hand trail downwards, reaching your trousers and slipping a hand in. You can feel his cold - ice cold - touch on your flushed skin. He’s near, so very near. All he would need to do is slip a finger inside and you’ll turn to putty - you’ll be his, as you always are when this happens.

 

You learnt a while ago that fighting him only made him more eager - to claim you as his, to do away with you however he pleases.

 

Give in and accept the pleasure.

 

He pauses and you bite down  _ hard  _ on your lip to prevent the whimper that threatens to escape. Peter chuckles at your attempt and just leans forward to lap at the tiny trickle of blood that breaks through your broken lip.

 

“Oh darling,” He murmurs against your lips, sending a shiver through your body and a whimper out of your lips. So much for holding  _ that  _ back. “You don’t mean that.”

 

And maybe the next whimper wasn’t from the finger he slipped inside (or fully at least), but at those words, at how soft he spoke those harsh words, at how... _ true _ they were.

 

You hated yourself for loving him, loving  _ this  _ but you couldn’t ( _ wouldn’t _ ) change that.

 

You throw your head back as he pumps his finger in so agonisingly slow, mouth falling silently open, and let your eyes slip shut.

 

This doesn’t need to change - at least, not yet.

 

You’ll take this pleasure (it’s the least he can give, the amount of pain he’s put you through) and then you'll leave. You won’t go back, not this time.

 

Clenching your jaw, you focus on the feel of his skin against your most sensitive area, of the finger now knuckle-deep inside of you and being joined with another - and not on any thoughts that  _ you won’t run, you can never run _ .

  
You  _ will  _ do it...it’ll just take time.


End file.
